Author's Chapter Notes:
This chapter contains sexual content with an original male character.
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone but my original characters. This is not for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended.
OOO
"I think I'm losing my mind, Pammy."
There was silence on the other end of the phone before:
"That's a hell of a way to answer the phone, Harleen."
She sighed, and sank down further into the bubble bath.
"I looked at the Caller ID," she replies glumly.
"I figured. Alright, so what's got your panties in a knot, chick?"
Harley snorted. "You have no idea how accurate that statement is, Pam."
"Panties in a – oh there's a guy, huh."
"Yeah… you could say that, I guess."
"You guess? What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well," she said quietly, shoving the bubbles around with her free hand.
"Spit it out!"
"Okay!" She hissed back. "He's one of my patients."
"Oh…. OH! Girl, that's a big no-no, you know that."
"Yeah, I know that, but he doesn't! I mean, he… the man has noconcept of personal boundaries, whatsoever. And he's got a real problem controlling his impulses, if he wants to do something he just does it, no thought put into it at all. Do you have any idea what it's like to work with someone like that? I mean, half the time I don't know if he's going to kiss me or kill me. Hell, he had me in a corner today, literally."
"So you aren't just a little scared of this guy?"
"I am, that's what's so screwed up about it. It's like, sometimes I forget how dangerous he can be, and he's just this… poor little injured puppy, you know, and you want to fix him… You'd do anything just to get him to smile again."
"That's what therapists do, isn't it?"
"I guess" she trailed off weakly.
"Anyway, tell me about this guy. What do you mean he's dangerous?"
"Well, he's Special Forces. You know, those guys are all bombs and stealth and… crazyfucking strength… You have no idea how strong he is. I mean, right before our third session he just… lost it. It took six orderlies to bring him down, Pammy, six. And these are not tiny guys. They had to give him three times the tranquilizer for his size to knock him out."
"Are you sure you're safe spending time with this guy?"
"Yeah. I mean… I think I am. He hasn't shown any real hostility toward me, but then again, with his mood swings… He makes Sybil look stable. I mean, I'm not talking laughing and crying two minutes apart, I'm talking cracking a joke and then tearing someone's face off."
"Isn't that exaggerating just a little?"
"Not really. Because he did, Pammy, he tore this guy's face off."
"What? How in the hell did he do that?"
"With his teeth. He bit him, and his fucking lip was hanging down his chin, I could see his gums."
Silence again for a long time.
"I mean… the guy he attacked was taunting him."
"Yeah, but…"
"I told you he had trouble controlling his impulses."
"Jesus Christ, Harl, what have you gotten yourself into? You know what, just… just stay right there, okay? We need to talk this over in person. I'll be over in a little bit."
OOO
Thirty minutes later, Harley crawled out of her now lukewarm bubble bath, threw on a robe, and went to answer the door.
The redhead in the hallway snorted.
"Real spiffy, Harls, nice to know you dress up for me." She said as she stepped past Harley into the small entryway.
"Cause you can talk so much, seeing as you're still wearing your uniform."
She glanced down at the muddy green Isley Nursery t-shirt and khaki shorts she was wearing.
"Alright, so I guess I can't talk."
"And you've been out of work for how long?"
"Actually, I had inventory today, I was just leaving when I called you."
"Well, I jumped out of the bath when you knocked on the door."
"So we've established that we're both woefully unprepared. Now about what I came here for," she said, as she headed past Harley into the kitchen, throwing the bag she was carrying onto the table. Harley followed behind her best friend listlessly, stopping at the refrigerator to pull out two cans of soda.
"Nope. I think we're gonna need something a little harder for this. I brought margaritas… hey what's this?"
She felt a sinking sensation in her stomach, stopping midway to getting ice out of the freezer, and looking over. Sure enough, Pam had found the picture left on the table.
"What's wrong with his face?"
"Dammit, I didn't mean for that to be out, Pam! Give that back!" But the redhead had already snatched it away, dancing out of her grasp and holding up th to see it better. "You can't look at that, Pammy, it's government property."
"It's just a picture. Besides, I work in a fucking greenhouse, Harleen, who am I gonna leak information to, my Purple Hearts?
Harley gave up, sighing and sinking into one of the four chairs and setting the two ice-filled glasses on the table. "Alright."
"Now, like I said, what happened to this guy's face? Is this the one your little sex toy bit?"
"Pamela!" The redhead snickered in response. "No, that's him… the Captain, I mean. His name is James Napier. He's from Gotham City."
"I heard that's a rough place."
"Yeah, so I've heard as well."
"You still haven't answered my question, blondie."
"Somebody cut him open. Wait a second." She stood up from the kitchen table and walked to her bedroom to retrieve the folder she'd hastily filled and stuffed away earlier today, returning a moment later with it. She opened it and began riffling through the pictures, handing several of them to Pam.
"They really did a number on him."
"Yeah. But do you see? When you've… seen someone like that, totally torn down… how can you really and truly fear them?
"Yeah," the redhead said, as well. "No wonder the guy's screwed up."
"It's worse than that, though. They gave him adrenaline, so he…he was awake, conscious, through everything they did to him. He said he could hear his men screaming in the next room, but he couldn't do anything to help them. They murdered his entire team and left him for dead."
"Why'd they do all this to him?" Pam looked up from the pictures.
Harley shook her head. "I don't know. I can't get him to talk about it. I guess it's just… too fresh in his mind, you know? He's the only one left alive who knows anything, but he's not talking. No one even knows whoattacked him, let alone why."
"Wow."
"And it's insane, really. This guy is just… a natural born killer, I should be completely terrified by him, and, I mean, sometimes he does scare me, his temper's so short, but… I end up forgetting about it the next time I talk to him… and I even tryto keep it in mind, but he's just… charming. And I must be crazy myself but…"
"You've got the hots for him."
Harley gave a tiny wail and clapped her hands over her face for the second time today.
"Yes. I think I'm losing my mind, Pammy."
Another snort. "You must also be losing your memory, because you've already said that."
"Well, I mean it."
"You just need to take a chill pill."
"Or have one of those margaritas." Her friend laughed and finally cracked the bottle open, pouring the pre-mixed into the waiting glasses.
"No salt, but it's alcohol." She pushed one over to Harley and clinked their glasses together when she took it. She took a sip, the blonde across from her drained it in a few gulps. "Wow, you're really trying to get drunk tonight."
"I just don't want to think anymore, Pammy. I've been thinking for days and days and days and it hasn't done me a damn bit of good."
"I'll tell you what you need to do, Harl. You need to put on some makeup, fix your hair, spritz on some perfume and really slut it up."
"Very feminist of you." She held out her glass to be filled again.
"I'm not saying it like a bad thing. Now let me finish. You need to go catch a taxi, pick the first bar you come to next to the base, find the first lonely private from Bumfuck, Nowhere, and play with hisprivates."
"You're horrible," Harley groaned, sipping a little more slowly at her second drink.
"And you're more of a freak than I ever figured you for. But if you're finding that having the willies scared out of you turns you on, hell, get him to tie you up and smack you around just a little, some guys are into that, or they will be if you'reinto it. I guarantee you, one good roll in the hay and Captain Jack here won't bother you so much… no matter how… dementedly hot you think he is. How long has it been since you and Chad broke up?"
"8 months." Harley said quietly.
"See? You're just really in need of a good lay, that's all."
Harley grimaced, thinking it over. It certainly would do her good to release just a little of this tension…
"You might be right."
"I always am, chick. Now, I need to go take a shower, and you can call me back in the morning and tell me how much you loved my idea."
"Alright, Red," Harley said, and returned her hug and kiss lightly, not wanting to get mud on her white terry cloth robe.
"I'll see you later, sweety. Try and have fun."
She saw her closest friend to the door, and upon entering the kitchen again looked at the two still-full glasses on the table. After a moment's consideration, she drained both and poured herself one more, face feeling very warm as she walked to her bedroom.
A few minutes later she pulled the towel off her wet hair and stood before the mirror for a long time, simply staring at herself. No bun, no glasses, no makeup, no white lab coat, just plain old Harleen, bare, exposed, vulnerable. She never left the house without her makeup on. To look at her now, some people would say she didn't even need it, but she knew better than they did. Most soldiers strapped on their armor, she painted hers on with a series of brushes and colors.
She wore her instruments tonight in layers, starting with her lingerie, tight blouse, short skirt, five inch heels now. She wasn't out for conversation tonight, was she? No need to confuse the prey with an unfamiliar set of weapons.
She blew the moisture out of her hair, left it down, long and flowing. Then, the final layer, the crowning achievement, began with a layer of foundation, leaving her skin pale and flawless, luminous as a pearl. Just enough liner to bring out her eyes, and the cherry on top. Red, the color of passion, lips lined and painted precisely.
She stopped and looked herself over critically. A living Barbie Doll stared back at her from the mirror, and she nodded. She didn't have to be herself to accomplish her ends tonight.
In fact, she thought it better if, for tonight, she were someone else entirely.
OOO
These places were all the same: smoky, deafening, dark.
When she first arrived, she forgot about her plan almost entirely, and simply took the moment to disappear in the crowd, becoming just another anonymous body writhing on the floor. But she didn't blend in, oh no, there wasn't a single eye that hadn't drifted her way just once; others weren't quite so discreet, and stared at her hungrily from the edges of the room. Those were her targets, and she pulled their desire to a fever pitch, dancing like she knew they were watching because they all were.
Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly, and she drew them in like moths to the flame: promises of ecstasy before sweet immolation.
She needed no partner, ignored the hips that pressed against hers, the arms that tried to encircle her; no hands touched her but her own, and she lost herself in the sensation of it, the throb of the music syncing in with her heartbeat, spinning in the dark until there was no discernible difference between she and it. Beads of sweat glistened on her skin, and she gave herself to it, to the nothingness within the noise.
Her chest was heaving, heart pounding when she finally stopped, weaving her way through the sea of people and to the bar along one wall. She didn't order a drink, didn't need to. The bartender placed one in front of her before she had a chance to even settle herself on the stool. A screwdriver, she smirked, and followed the bartender's gesture to her lucky victim.
Young, maybe even younger than she was; he was dressed in civilian clothing, but the stiffness in his posture, the High and Tight both gave him away. There was still a babyish roundness to his face, and Harley knew as sure as the sky was blue that he hadn't seen so much as an hour of combat, probably hadn't even held a gun outside of the rifle range yet. She wrapped her lips around the straw, and winked at him, that universal come-hither look and oh! How cute. He almost looked nervous as he made his way over to her.
"I saw you out on the floor."
Of course you did, she thought, and gave him a bone-melting smile.
"What's your name, sweetheart?"
"Karl… Karl Daniels." He offered his hand and she took it, watching the shiver that tore through him as she ran her nails over his palm while pulling away.
Perfect.
She leaned in, uncomfortably near, invading his space and pressing so close her lips brushed the shell of his ear, and he shivered again.
"You can call me Harley. But it's so loud. What do you say you and I go somewhere quiet?"
His eyes widened, mouth working for a moment without a sound. Didn't think it would be that easy, did you? She thought with amusement as he quickly nodded. As she got to her feet she found he was a head taller than her, just over six feet, but he trailed behind her like a lost puppy as she headed for the door.
"Do you have a car?"
"No.. I, uh, I live on base."
"We'll catch a taxi, then."
"Where are we going?" He asked carefully.
"My apartment."
He sputtered a little at that, and she arched an eyebrow at him. "Something wrong?"
"N-no," he said after a moment.
It wasn't terribly hard to flag down a taxi. All one had to do was show a little leg, an easy prospect when she had so much to show.
She had a knack for making people talk, and she dragged the information slowly out of the timid young man, once inside the taxi. 25 (he was younger than her), Mississippi (softly accented voice had already given that away).
His thigh was tensed to trembling when she laid her hand upon it, and some unfamiliar part of her reveled in his unease.
"Ooh, you're shaking," she purred, and a much deeper voice than her own echoed through her mind. His eyes darted up to hers, and she smiled in a way that wasn't soothing in the least. "Poor little thing, are you cold?"
"No," he stuttered again, and she could see the blush in his cheeks under each streetlight they passed.
"Maybe just a little distracted, then." Her hand slid higher, brushing over the hardness in his jeans and his whole body gave a start.
"Ooops," she trilled, and batted her eyelashes, watching as he actually fell for the oldest trick in the book.
She lived in the housing complex not five blocks off base, and it took no time for the taxi to arrive. Her toy paid… how very chivalrous of him. She entered the building, dispassionately noted that she was weaving just a little on her high heels, and walked to the elevator.
The tenth floor was their stop, and he finally seemed to regain some of his courage as the doors slid closed, cautiously slipping his hands over her shoulders, and she arched hard, shamelessly back against him. It wasn't gentle she wanted tonight. He gasped, and his hands slipped lower as she turned in his grasp, circling her waist and pulling her impossibly closer, and yes, yes, God yes she had missed this. Firm warm flesh, and rough hands pulling at her shirt, tugging it out of her skirt and finding the bare skin underneath. He tasted plain, like mint toothpaste and tonic water, but he was deliciously warm and real and hardunder her hands.
The doors slide open, and they stumble past a shocked looking middle-aged couple, down seven doors and around the corner to her apartment. It was hard to find the key with her back to the door, his weight pinning her against it, but she managed to find it, wrenching open the lock and slamming the door shut behind them.
He opened his mouth, the beginning of a word filling it: she replaced it with her tongue and felt his moan rumble into her chest as her hands fumbled with his belt. She didn't want to talk, didn't want to think, only feel. Looking back, she had no idea exactly how or when they made it to the bedroom, but it only mattered that they were there, the salt of his skin in her mouth as his tentative fingers found the lace of her panties.
"Jack," she moaned, and suddenly he was frozen under her hands.
He'd heard that just as clearly as she had.
"My name's not Jack," he said quietly, and she nearly sobbed as she pressed a hand to her mouth, retreating to the farthest edge of the bed. He frowned and made a move to reach out for her, but she shook her head.
"I can't do this," she whispered, and he groaned, looking momentarily stricken, before…
"Look. I know this isn't about love, we're never gonna see each other again after tonight. Whoever he is… I mean… look, if that's what you need then… it's not gonna hurt my feelings if you just… imagine… I… you just can't leave me like this."
He tried again, and she didn't pull away this time, mind whirling. Her hands slid over his and she brought them up to cup her face as she closed her eyes.
She couldn't, couldn't do this, couldn't imagine this, but she found the image came easily, unbidden to the surface, disguising his tall form as another's, and as it found his cheek, the smooth skin became ridged with scars beneath her tongue, and she moaned helplessly, the surge of heat inside of her unbelievable.
"That's it, Harley," he whispered, but even his voice now belonged to someone else, as surely as she did.
OOO
Two hours later, and she found herself alone in her apartment again. The bed was still warm beside her, but she ignored it, unable to pull her attention away from the marks that covered her skin. Bites, scratches, bruises, some in the shape of his hands, others following the lines of his teeth or the twine he'd used to bind her to the bed. He'd been so very willing to bend to her desire: to bend to another's will.
Two hours later, but she hadn't stopped thinking of the Captain even once.
Things hadn't gone according to plan at all.